


Glass - SeaBird Oneshot

by megaphore



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, Mild Angst, Original Character - Freeform, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 16:51:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13369008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megaphore/pseuds/megaphore
Summary: Altaira is unable to sleep, and converses with Qrow in the dim light of the kitchen. When the night takes a sad turn, how will the night transpire?





	Glass - SeaBird Oneshot

**Author's Note:**

> Just so things are a little clearer, this takes place during volume five. Altaira is Oscar's older sister, and traveled with him to locate Qrow during volume four.
> 
> Involving Altaira's team, they were all assumed dead in the shipwreck; later in the volume, they find Ymir, though she has amnesia and is different than she was. At the time, she has not been found.

The night was silent. Occasional creaking of beds could be heard as their occupants shifted in the sheets, but other than that, the house held a peaceful serenity. It was late; all were asleep. All, except Altaira.

She glanced to her bedside, feeling around in the dark for her scroll. The white light of the translucent screen basked her face as the scroll was opened. _3:36 AM._ With a heavy sigh, she sat up in bed slowly, swinging her legs over the side of the frame after fighting out of the linens, standing abruptly. The floor felt cold under her feet, a chilling shiver traveling up her spine. Tonight was a peculiar one. With vigor, she slipped into a hoodie, hoping to warm herself. The material was soft against her bare arms.

Altaira hadn’t determined much about what to do, however one thing could be said definitely: her throat was dry. Sometimes, when thoughts kept her up, she’d lay awake for hours. This always seemed to make her saliva production halt completely. As gently as possible, she cracked the door open, slipping out. Her feet shuffled across the floor in light steps, making it through the hallway to the living area, the open ended kitchen inviting her. A soft click emitted through the silence as the lights under the cabinets were switched on. The dim glow lit the area slightly, allowing enough visibility to complete her task. She reached to the cupboard above, wrapping a hand securely around a glass. She’d begun to draw her arm level when a voice broke through the atmosphere.

“Can’t sleep?” To this, Altaira jumped, her shoulders tensing as the ware slipped out of her fingers. Her eyes clamped shut in anticipation of the glass breaking, but it never came. She turned around slowly, only to see a familiar man bent uncomfortably, holding the cylinder just a few inches from the ground.

“Qrow, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” she snapped, taking the cup from his outstretched hand.

“My bad,” he replied, straightening out his awkward posture. “You’re up late.”

“Couldn’t fall asleep.” It was quiet, for just a moment, as the faucet spouted water, turned off as fast as it was on. “Thoughts kept me up, I guess…” Her hazel eyes stared blankly ahead, not focusing on anything in particular.

“What kind of thoughts?” he asked, his gruff voice and tone sending a shiver through Altaira. She’d heard him talk many times before. To Ruby, Yang, Oscar, everyone; however, the sincerity that she felt in his question was overwhelming. She sipped her water absentmindedly, now planting her eyes to the ground.

“Just...things that have happened. To me, I mean. It’s not really worth hearing--”

“Try me,” he interjected, leaning against the counter behind him and crossing his arms thoughtfully. “I’ve heard my fair share of stories, but I don’t think you’ve ever told me yours, Freckles.” She smiled at the nickname, crossing her legs and leaning on the counter as Qrow did.

“You’re still holding on to that, huh?”

“On to what?”

“Freckles.” He chuckled.

“You seem to like it better than Oscar Sr.” Altaira often remembered when she had first met him, at that bar. It seemed like ages ago. How she’d stood behind Oscar uniformly. How he’d tossed that cane to him. It almost felt like a dream. Ever since that day, he’d always reminded them of their resemblance. The same yellowy green eyes, the same freckles dotted charmingly over their noses. She set down her glass.

“Well, once upon a time,” she began, “I was at a huntsman academy. Haven. And, I guess, my team was more advanced than the rest...we all graduated two years early.” A brief pause was taken as she considered her words. “We didn’t go on as huntsman though. Team RALY never made it to the streets as heroes.” She laughed mellowly.

“We sailed the seas. Lir had always talked about running away, becoming one with the water; I guess he rubbed off on us. We got a ship and left Mistral behind, travelling by the ocean. We were free spirits, I guess. Who would have guessed that I’d be back here…”

“What...happened to them?” Qrow inquired, cautious but curious. Altaira swallowed hard.

“About three years into our voyage, the ship was attacked. Some sort of sea monster Grimm that we’d never heard of. And…”

“They didn't survive,” he finished. She nodded solemnly, a fist clenched tightly at her side.

"Ryujin Rikita, eaten by an unknown Grimm. Lir Wolff, leg severed. He bled out." Altaira's voice faltered as she recited their death reports. "Ymir Wolff, missing. Presumed dead."

Qrow hesitated, not sure if he was overstepping. “Is that how you got your scar? Fighting the Grimm?”

Altaira gasped lightly, realizing what he’d seen. She grazed a finger over the patchy skin, falling straight from her left brow to the under eye. When that scar was received, she’d made a point of covering it. A black eye patch always hid it; the only ones who’d ever seen it were her aunt and Oscar. She turned away from Qrow, averting her eyes to the ground once more. The two were close together, though neither had seemed to realize as they inched closer to each other. Subconscious did strange things to people.

Qrow reached over to her, placing a finger gently on her chin and turning her head to him. Their eyes locked, a piercing red matching a witty hazel. His hand met the side of her face softly, his thumb caressing the damaged skin. It was uneven, an irregular pattern of dips and hills. As this occurred, Altaira was still, collected. She hadn’t felt this calm in a while; his touch was soothing. A tension hung in the air, their breaths melding in the close proximity. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the intoxicating intimacy, that had inspired them to do it.

Time slowed as the space between them shrunk, and it seemed to freeze as their lips collided. A soft, gentle touch sent sparks flying between them.

Qrow drew back lightly, hand entangled in her umber locks. Altaira was surprised at his passiveness. His nature always seemed so rugged, that such a comfortable and genuine peacefulness felt foreign.

She took initiative, grasping the sides of his face and pressing her lips firmly to his, a jolt of excitement firing through her. She was only ever this bold in battle, a fierce warrior. It almost felt as if they were sparring.

_Both circle at a distance. Qrow makes the first move. Altaira evades and returns an attack. All that can be heard is heavy breaths and the clash of their weapons. A kick. A tuck. A roll. Altaira strikes again, and Qrow’s weapon skids away. She has the upperhand._

Qrow’s arms were wrapped around her now, resting on her lower back. Her own hands had since migrated, one flung over his shoulder and the other tangled within his raven hair. Both stumbled, Altaira’s back against the counter as a stray thumb fondled her hip bone, the cloth of her bed shirt riding up against his wrist. She placed a hand on the countertop behind her for support, however that plan seemed to backfire almost as soon as it was executed.

The glass she had set there earlier was knocked over, the water inside now spilled and dripping onto the floor. The two pulled apart reluctantly as Qrow cursed silently, grabbing a few paper towels and wiping up the spill. Altaira stared for a few moments, stunned more than anything. The event seemed so random, out of place.

“I’ll take care of this. You-you should go to sleep,” he prompted. She nodded gratefully, as the drowsiness she’d waited for finally began to set in.

“Thank you."

Altaira tiptoed through the house and slipped into her room silently, falling onto the bed. As she clutched her pillow tightly as the events of the night replayed through her head, a fierce blush staining her cheeks. Before much time had passed, she was fast asleep.


End file.
